


Tool

by MercuryMapleKey



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Character Study, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:30:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercuryMapleKey/pseuds/MercuryMapleKey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dinobot II was built from Megatron's intense fixation with his progenitor and ultimately treated like a thing to be used. But he doesn't know that. He doesn't know anything about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tool

**Author's Note:**

> I just have a lot of thoughts about Dino2, And I think about him a lot, and I just really needed to write this out. Poor glorified sexdoll.

No one had ever told him what he was.

He was a clone, yes. That he knew. His namesake and progenitor a traitor to the Predacon name and brought permanently offline for it. Occasionally Dinobot II wished that he could have been there for it himself. To see the light from his origin’s spark fade before his own optics. How he would have relished the chance to fight for his own name, prove that he was the only Dinobot worthy of the title, the only worthy of standing at Megatron’s side, and all of it through a battle to the death.

But Dinobot II didn’t know what he was.

He’d been created for battle, and likewise in the thick of it too. The first moments of his life a barrage of noise and colour, the shouting of prey as he ripped into their plating, the flash of machinery emanating magnetic fields so powerful they’d render a mech apart at the seams, and a voice; a voice so smooth, so direct and compelling through the chaos that Dinobot had obeyed without question.

It was only natural, after all, to serve one’s master. Dinobot knew loyalty, he knew servitude; he’d been created for it. In the aftermath of his birth Megatron had told him very little of his origin. Dinobot knew his purpose, he knew his orders and how to carry them out… but he knew nothing of himself. Not of himself, not of his namesake, and least of all of his right to know about any of them. In time he came to learn a thing or two. He learned of pleasure when Megatron called him to his quarters alone. He learned how to serve his creator in a new way, the way Megatron preferred to have him and the things he wanted Dinobot to say. He’d been built for that too, Dinobot had realized not long after their trysts begun, but more startling the observation was how much he enjoyed it. True, he took pride in serving Megatron no matter the method, as per his programming, but more than that was the hiss of pleasure through bared teeth when Megatron’s voice ghosted across his neck and audio, the force that seized his spark with Megatron’s thighs clamped around his hips. It was unprecedented – it was his to partake in. And he did, as often as Megatron wanted of him.

Dinobot learned also of how much Megatron liked to see him in humiliation. Perceived humiliation, at least; no amount of kneeling, or begging, or debauchery would ever compel Dinobot to feel shame when he had neither the context not cause for it. But Megatron liked it, and what was good for Megatron was good for his raptor. The snarl in Megatron’s voice when he called his name, the possessive glint in his optics heavy with lust and greed; Dinobot II would have done anything for it. The original wasn’t worthy of what he hadn’t appreciated. The original wasn’t worthy of his own life.

Still, Dinobot was curious. And when that curiosity built to a pressure even he couldn’t ignore he found that he had only one option left. He crushed down his pride and he asked.

“You’re a soldier. And a drone.” The answer rolls from Inferno’s mouth like it is both synonymous with the need for energon yet only natural that he should need to explain it. “You exist to serve the royalty! Nothing else!” That seems obvious, Dinobot is no traitor, but Inferno has never had much else to give beyond loyalty to his so-called queen.

“You’re a pred, ain’t ya?” Quickstrike doesn’t sound certain of it himself, scratching at his helm as he stares up at his latest in teammates. “I don’t know what a transmetal-two is, but ya pack a punch either way, don’chya?” He laughs loudly and hops in place as the idea comes to him. “What say you an’ me find ourselves some maxis and rustle up a little—hey! Where ya goin?” Dinobot doesn’t bother sticking around to hear the rest.

“You’re an experiment. One of my better ones, actually.” Tarantulas is gleeful, always willing to take time out of somebody else’s schedule to admire a project. Dinobot recoils back with a snarl, and the spider takes note of that too, waving the other off dismissively.

“Not that a _clone_ is anything difficult to create, but a transmetal two…” Tarantulas’ interest perks again, visibly. “The amalgamation of your mutant spark and Dinobot’s coding alone was pure genius on my part.” His extra legs are fidgeting excitedly, he moves closer, servos brushing Dinobot’s plating only to be snapped away again. “Megatron doesn’t utilize you like he should.” Tarantulas eyes him up like a toy to be deciphered from the inside out. Dinobot learns what it means to feel disgust.

Rampage has lots of things to call him, bellowing in uncontainable fury until his words become indecipherable noises and his frame is twisting on the ground like a modern horror. The display, as always, is pathetic. Dinobot knows what Rampage is, but just because they share in the same life-force does not mean that he’s a monster too. He smiles and squeezes his half-spark tighter.

Waspinator is the only one in the troops who knew his predecessor before he took his traitorous turn. Dinobot considers asking more than once. It would be an easy thing to wring answers from the spineless insect. Easy and informative, well worth the time. But Dinobot II is not the same as the original. He’s a loyal soldier, he’s a transmetal two, he shares his spark with a monster and was pieced together for the pleasure of the mech he’d been created for. Dinobot II is not Dinobot, and he decides that he does not want to be.

“Megatron, a question.” He’s commited himself to asking by now, but his teeth are bared, uncomfortable with their words. Dinobot isn’t sure anymore if the answer will coincide with what he seeks.

“Oh?” Megatron is fresh from the bath, his plating is glistening like chrome and he’s placed Dinobot firmly between himself and the door. “Very well then. What is it?”

Dinobot doesn’t want to say anything that could get in the way with what he knows was about to happen, but the question cannot wait. He’s waited too long already to know the answer.

“What—“ It sounds pathetic to his audios, even more so in front of Megatron, but Dinobot steels his dignity and presses on. Not like a soldier, but a warrior. “What am I?”

If the question takes Megatron by surprise at all he doesn’t show it. A quick roam of his optics over Dinobot’s frame brings the corner of a smile to his lips.

“Well I should have thought that would have been obvious by now Dinobot. Yes, I thought it should be obvious indeed.” He draws it out deliberately, dragging a servo down Dinobot’s waist slowly and curling it around his hip. Ensuring the clone’s optics were locked on his and slamming him roughly against the closed door. Dinobot’s ventilations shuddered through a stall, the look in Megatron’s optics turned predatory.

“What you are is mine.”

It wasn’t the answer he had anticipated nor the one that left him satisfied, but for now it would have to do.

 


End file.
